


Mercy

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Casual Sex, Dom/sub, Dominatrix, F/M, First Time, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Love, Pre-Season/Series 03, Resolved Sexual Tension, Riding Crops, Romance, Rope Bondage, Safewords, Sarcastic Sherlock, Sex Toys, Sub Sherlock Holmes, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Virgin Sherlock, Voice Kink, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 12:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2308955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If it gets to be too much, your safeword is... ‘mercy’."</p><p>"I won't safeword."</p><p>"Oh, it's a challenge now, Mr Holmes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Based really rather loosely from an old RP with Storylover18. Well, basically only the Prologue is based from the RP. The rest is purely my oh-Sherlock-definitely-went-to-see-Irene-for-dubious-reasons-over-the-two-years mind coming into play.
> 
> Tags will be updated as it goes.

His hair was soaking wet, plastered to his head in limp, wet tendrils. It was longer then before, dripping water onto the expensive, familiar coat wrapped tightly about him.

It was difficult to see through the sheets of rain that were pounding the sleepy city near Paris, but his eyes were bright, crystal clear with the intuition that made him who he was, staring at her with a slightly rueful, but as unemotional as ever, face.

He was shivering under the rain and even as the door opened, he took a half step towards the entrance, towards the inviting warmth of the dry apartment.

He smiled winningly. A practised, polished move.

"I'm not dead," he said. His voice rumbled like she remembered. "Let's have dinner."

Irene stared at him for a moment longer before smirking.

 


	2. I Won't Safeword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're getting back together. They're getting it on.

Sherlock dried his hair with the plush bath towel, flinging the bathroom door open. "Nice place," he called out, down the hallway. He knew she was nearby.

"Oh, I make do."

Sherlock stepped into the sitting room, flinging the towel over his shoulder. Irene was sitting on the sofa, hair drawn back in a messy bun, tendrils of it falling down over the shoulders of her jade velvet blouse. She was wearing black skinny jeans below that and she looked... exceedingly normal compared to the times that he had seen her years ago.

"I can see that," Sherlock said, casting his gaze around the room.

She'd been here about seven months, going by the state of the hardwood floor. All of the furniture was accordingly new; flat hadn't come furnished or if it had, the furniture had been replaced. The most lived in room was the bedroom. Sherlock had taken a peek on his way to the bathroom. He wasn't sure what Irene did now, but given the dinner table and the state of it, he guessed it was very much the same thing that she used to do.

"What brings you here, Sherlock?" Irene asked, looking up at him balefully.

"Oh, you know," Sherlock said absently, fluffing his fingers through his hair. It was starting to curl up as it dried. "I was in the neighbourhood."

Irene laughed, leaning back on the sofa. She crossed her legs and leaned forward, propping her elbow up on her knees and putting her chin on her hand. "I always knew that you weren't dead."

"Takes one to know one," Sherlock replied, quirking a smile.

"And I know you," Irene replied before raising her head again. "Do you find those clothes to your liking?"

Sherlock glanced down at the blue jeans, a smidge too short, and the black spandex shirt, just slightly too tight, and shrugged. "Fine, given the circumstances. Good for casual, if you like that sort of thing."

Irene just smiled and watched him. "Really, Sherlock, what brings you to Paris? Chasing some caper, I'd imagine? Is Doctor Watson here as well?"

Sherlock shook his head slowly. "No... John's... unaware of the circumstances surrounding my faked suicide."

"I see. You decided to seek me out instead."

Sherlock shrugged a shoulder. "I was bored."

Irene's smile widened and the spark in her eyes was definitely more pronounced. "So, you sought me for _entertainment_."

Sherlock met her gaze. His head fell a few degrees to the right. Curiosity swelled up deep in parts of him that normally went untouched, spurred on by a break in the action and the idea of a case that had yet gone unsolved.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I'm afraid I'm not very educated on the matter," he admitted.

"Is that an admission?" Irene replied, eyes going wide in mock-surprise. "The great Sherlock Holmes doesn't know everything?"

"I never claim to know everything. ‘Everything’ is an all-inclusive term and there's countless things that I would never bother to remember," Sherlock said absently.

Irene shrugged delicately. "Touché. So, the King of Virgins wants to be dethroned. I can help with that. I'll even waive the usual fee."

"‘Want’ designates a certain desire that I seem to lack," Sherlock said, "so let's use ‘curiosity’ as the point of origin for the idea."

"Whatever way you prefer to phrase it. The Virgin has a curiosity of what sex is like. Does that suit you better, Sherlock?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes." He paused. "Although the lack of a nickname would suit me better. Although... I doubt you're going to be amendable to changing that."

Irene raised her eyebrows. "Shall I call you ‘love’ or ‘Lockie’?"

Sherlock straightened slightly. "The Virgin will suffice." Although why she simply couldn't call him by his name, he wasn't sure. He figured it had something to do with the sexual appeal. Irene probably took great amusement, and maybe pride, in the idea that she would be with him where no one else would.

Sherlock didn't care much about sexuality or social stigma. He was asexual and a virgin; it didn't affect his work and, therefore, it didn't bother him. But he was bored, and boredom led to experiments and, being thirty-five now with nothing else to do, he thought it was a perfect time to try out a thing or two. He didn't know if he exactly trusted Irene Adler - anyone who trusted her would be a fool - but who better to put his virgin self in the hands of than a semi-intelligent sex worker?

"That's what I thought," Irene said. "Onto the clinical stuff. I'm STD-free. I would assume that you are, too, but things happen."

Sherlock sat down on the chair, folding his hands in his lap. "I'm clean. I've never performed or received -" He stopped, lips formed around a syllable to speak before it trailed off into an _oh_. "Cunnilingus," he said instead, holding up a finger. "Once, for drugs."

Irene raised her eyebrows again. "Classy."

"I hated it," Sherlock said off-hand.

"We'll mark that off the list, then," Irene replied just as off-handedly. "Is there anything else that you absolutely won't do?"

Sherlock reverted back into his head for a moment, sorting through pages upon pages of sexual activities. Just because he was a virgin didn't mean he didn't know about sex. There was a large amount of crime commited solely because of love or sex, so he _did_ have the knowledge. Nowhere near extensive as Irene's he was sure, but enough to sort through.

". . . Age regression," he said slowly. "Probably not quite my forte."

"Infantilism," Irene echoed. "We'll steer away from there, although it does bring up beautiful mental pictures. A onesie with feet and a dummy."

" _Any_ age regression," Sherlock retorted. "Not just infantilism."

"I understand, Sherlock."

"Good. I think that might be it?" Sherlock rubbed his nose. "I'm afraid I'm not as educated as you on this topic. There isn't a whole lot that I'm rarely unwilling to do, though."

Irene smiled sweetly. "That's what I like to hear. I'll give you an out, however. You should feel special, Sherlock; I don't usually give my clients a choice."

"I'm not your usual client," Sherlock interrupted.

"No," Irene agreed. "If it gets to be too much, your safeword... is ‘mercy’."

Sherlock felt his nose pull up. "I won't safeword," he said flippantly, waving his hand towards her dismissively.

Irene's eyes twinkled as she looked back at him. "Oh, it's a challenge now, Mr Holmes."

"Challenge accepted," he replied easily, looking back at her as she smirked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if anyone's keen on the idea of Sherlock going to Irene as much as I am, but I figured I'd post the first chapter and see if anybody was reading it. :p

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter One coming soon.
> 
> I do not own _Sherlock._  
>  Stay tuned!


End file.
